


felix felicis

by longhairandbarefeet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Jon, F/M, Hogwarts House Theme Party, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sansa and Jon are Hufflepuffs, Smut, halloween fic, he's a snowflake who talks alot and is quite charming when he is tipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 04:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12573880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairandbarefeet/pseuds/longhairandbarefeet
Summary: Sansa feels like an idiot. She’s never been to a college party before, a rule set by her parents, but since her brother and Theon are throwing a Halloween party this year and she had just turned eighteen, they gave their approval, begrudgingly, but they still did. She huffs gently, walking slower into the frat house that’s filled with guys and girls wearing red, blue, and green, and as far as she can see, she’s the only one wearing yellow.akawhere jon and sansa are the only hufflepuffs (but it's okay because they definitely and totally get it on.)





	felix felicis

Sansa feels like a fucking idiot. She’s never been to a college party before, a rule set by her parents, but since her brother and Theon are throwing a Halloween party this year, and she had just turned eighteen, they gave their approval, begrudgingly, but they still did. She huffs gently, walking slower into the frat house that’s filled with guys and girls wearing red, blue, and green, and as far as she can see, she’s the only one wearing yellow. 

 

So yeah, Sansa feels like a fucking idiot.

 

It’s a feeling she used to never have, but lately, it happens more often than not. She wants to blame a lot of things. Her failed relationship with a particular shitty guy, her ‘so-called’ best friend beginning to date said shitty guy, and more importantly, the wait list letter from Stanford that she keeps hidden in her bottom desk drawer. She’s second in her class, has an almost perfect GPA, is the captain of the tennis team, and participates in several clubs, how is she wait listed? Her whole life has centered on getting into Stanford, since she realized that life on the West Coast might be a little less dreary and cold than the Northeast. She didn’t want to follow in the footsteps of her big brother Robb, staying in the city and going to NYU, but suddenly that sounded like more and more of a reality for her.

 

“Sansa!” Theon yells over the music, walking towards her with a green tie loose around his neck, a frothy cup of beer in hand, and beads of sweat on his forehead. He’s been one of Robb’s best friends since Sansa was in preschool, and while he’s as depraved as they come, she trusts him. “Robb said he wasn’t sure if you’d come, has he seen you yet?” 

 

“Not yet, I just got here actually...” Sansa pauses, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and exhaling. “So, wait, you are a Slytherin? Why am I not surprised?”

 

“I’ve always been clever and resourceful sweetheart, and bonus that the color brings out the specks of green in my eyes.” Theon replies, rolling the sleeves of his oxford further up his forearms. “I’ll find Robb, stay put, don’t talk to anyone. You Hufflepuffs are too friendly, and in that skirt, pssh, I don’t think so.” He wags his finger and disappears in the crowd. 

 

Initially she loved the idea, even curious to take her ‘Sorting Hat’ quiz because even though she thought for sure that she was a Ravenclaw, she could also see herself being a Gryffindor like Robb and Arya’s quizzes suggested. It was a bit of a surprise when she got Hufflepuff. And as she stands by herself near the speakers, she feels like the yellow tie, and the short skirt with the yellow stockings that she is wearing is serving as a beacon for unwanted stares from drunken frat guys. 

 

Right now, all she really wishes is that she was just a goddamn Gryffindor or Slytherin like everyone else.

 

“Hufflepuff?” a male voice says from behind her. Maybe it’s because he’s the fourth person to try to talk to her, or because it’s the fourth time she’s heard this unfortunate remix of Monster Mash, but she snaps. 

 

“Fucking hells, yes I am, now before you try some line about getting friendly or trying to “badger” me into fucking you, please know you aren’t as original as you think, so fuck off.” Sansa says with a growl, hoping he’ll be gone by the time she turns around, but he’s not and she immediately swallows when she sees who it is. 

 

Suddenly she gets that idiot feeling again. 

 

“For your first college party, you seem to hold your own pretty well.” Jon replies after a moment of quiet between them. He’s red in the face and rubbing anxiously at the nape of his neck with a smile. 

 

“Gods, Jon, I am so sorry.” Sansa replies with embarrassment rippling from her voice like a rowdy current. As long as she’s known Theon, she’s known Jon. He’s Robb’s other best friend, always a constant fixture in the Stark house, and while she knows Jon, she doesn’t really feel like she _knows_ him.

 

“It’s alright little Stark, you obviously get a pass because us Hufflepuffs have to stick together, don’t we?” Jon says impishly, holding tightly to his cup and sending her an ill attempt at a wink that makes her laugh loudly. She’s wondering if the contents of his cup are what is making him so playful, but all Sansa knows is that she’s enjoying this side of him. 

 

“You are terrible at winking, has anyone ever told you that?” 

 

“Maybe once or twice, but I did get you to laugh and truly what a lovely sound it is.” He says, and she feels her cheeks burn up, unable to quite believe that Jon Snow is the one to make her blush. She takes into account that he looks really sexy when he wears his hair in a man bun and that he manages to pull off the loose oxford and tie like it’s his goddamn job. 

 

“Jon Snow, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” 

 

“I’ve been flirting with you since grade school, love,” Jon says, moving closer to her, and she can feel the heat of his words on her cheek. She smells the strong scent of beer on his breath and she suddenly doesn’t mind the smell of Bud Light anymore. 

 

“What?” Sansa says with her mouth agape. That can’t be true, they barely know each other, and she’s sure that whatever he does know he probably doesn’t like. He’s always enjoyed the company of Arya, preferring to conversate with her when Robb wasn’t around at brief intervals. She racks her brain harder, thinks of the few conversations they have shared and how she mistook his shyness for indifference, thinks about the times he’d come to her tennis matches even when Robb wasn’t there, that time he he stayed up until four am with her to finish her paper on Hamlet because she forgotten it was due, or that he’s the only person to ask her the status on her acceptance to Stanford. 

 

“Maybe I should have been a bit more obvious.” His mouth is hovering over hers, and while she knows this is reckless, that Jon is just drunk and that making out with her brother’s best friend would be a terrible idea, she still closes her eyes and anticipates his lips. 

 

“Sansa!” Sansa hears her brother shout, and she lets out a groan, opening her eyes to see that Jon is standing a few feet away from her now. “Oh good, Jon is here. I was so worried some creep would try to hit on you, at least he’d keep those douchebags away.” She smiles and nods; making sure that Robb doesn’t see the way Jon cringes at his phrasing. 

 

“Yes, Jon has been the perfect gentleman.” 

 

“Good, now tell me, how is my sister a Hufflepuff?” Robb chuckles, and pushes a cup of beer in her hand. 

 

+

 

“Did you mean it?” Sansa says running her hands over Jon’s bare chest. She’s been anxious to ask him that question all night, and when she was sure that Robb was passed out in his bed, she crawled into Jon’s two bedrooms over. 

 

“Robb will murder me if I answer that question.” Jon whispers, and even though the room is dark, she can see how hungry he looks for her. 

 

“And I will if you don’t.” Sansa replies sharply, placing her hand on his cheek and cupping his face. She likes the way the stubble feels against her palm, and she’s anxious to feel it across her mouth. 

 

“I meant it.”

 

She presses her lips to his after, tasting the toothpaste he must’ve just used and she hums at the way his tongue feels inside of her mouth, practiced and enthusiastic.

 

“You taste just as I always thought you would.” Jon moans as he presses kisses to her jawline, neck, clavicle, and every bit of skin that’s visible above her breast.

 

“And what’s that?” Sansa asks, unbuttoning the shirt, exposing her lacy bra, and he growls at the sight of her. 

 

“Like candy, the sweetest fucking candy I’ve ever tasted.” Jon says fingering the straps of her bra, and pushing the whole thing down until it’s wrapped around her stomach. She smiles at his impatience, and moans as he takes her nipple in his mouth hungrily. She can’t help but watch him as sucks and swirls his tongue until both of her nipples points out straight, and she’s sure her panties are soaked through. _It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it_ Sansa thinks.

 

“Condom?” Sansa asks, leaning up to take her skirt off. 

 

“Patience, Sansa,” He chuckles, and places his hand over hers to stop her movements. “Let me,” Jon says with a Cheshire cat grin, and his eyebrow crooked. She watches, unsure of what his plans are but when he presses wet kisses to the inside of her thigh she thinks maybe she’ll die of embarrassment or a mind-blowing orgasm, whatever hits her first. 

 

“Jon, gods,” Sansa moans, hands curled into the tufts of his curls and her legs wrapped around his shoulders. “I’m close, fuck. I am so close.”

 

She comes a moment later with his name on her lips, and when she’s done seeing stars she looks over at him. He’s smiling at her. 

 

“Like I said,” Jon presses his fingers to her wetness again, and as she shivers from the pressure, she shivers again when she sees him lick her climax from his fingers. “Candy.” 

 

After an hour, when they are both too tired and sore for another round, she rolls into his arms with a dopey grin, liking the way his arms feel wrapped around her. And for the first time since her letter from Stanford, Sansa thinks that maybe staying in the city wouldn’t be so terrible, she can get warm here too.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone has a safe and fun halloween!!!! :)
> 
> comments and kudos are so appreciated. I love you all!!!!


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